The Demons Inside
by AoZ
Summary: A dark, ruthless world. Two children victimized, but surviving against all odds. A freelancer under the mafia, a hired killer, a fighting heiress to a powerful mob boss, and a wise man who's seen Hell and come back strong, with the scars to prove it. When fate forces them to exist and cooperate together, what side will prevail in morality's war? [Modern AU Kuroshitsuji.] [Mature]
1. Chapter I: (Simultaneous Nightmare)

_My head won't stop chuuurning. Now I'm making an alternate universe! No magic, no demons, no angels. Just bad people, children thrown into it, and serial killers and human trafficking, with a side of drugs. (And a seriously knotted love triangle…)_

_**Disclaimer:**_

_I own nothing but my OC(s), and the idea for this plot. Everything related to Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji belongs to Yana Toboso. _

* * *

_**Genre:**__ Suspense/Hurt/Comfort_

_**Rating:**__ Mature (for some blood, crude language, child abuse, and definite adult themes.)_

**_Pairings:_**_ (__Claude x OC) (Sebastian x OC) (Claude x Sebastian); (Mentions of Undertaker x different OC); (Alois x Ciel friendship fluff); (Possibly Alois x Lizzy x Ciel innocent triangle)_

_**Synopsis:  
**The world is a dark and damned place to live in. Whether on the streets walking under protective lampposts, or along shadowed alleyways. There is hate. There is greed. There is pain.  
To be a child forced into walking the shoes of an adult, the world becomes cold and worthless to save.  
To be a hired killer, the light left a long time ago. There is no need for a heart.  
To work under contract to the Irish mafia, duty and loyalty cross paths with the inner-idea of what should and needs to be done. What rules can afford to be broken, and for what purpose?  
To break free from a father's protective grip, sacrificing of the self becomes the only ticket out._

_But when love, bittersweet and almost always leading to more pain and grief, inevitably enters the fray- can cold and hardened hearts learn to reach out when the dark and the blood becomes too much for them alone to bear?  
Especially when survival all around teeters on it…_

* * *

**The Demons Inside**

**I. **

_**One Nightmare, Simultaneous with Another**_

* * *

It could be said that it started in Bexley. With its quiet upper-class feel and population, it really was to be expected. The rich with their money, the comforts of luxury in the modern-day world. How disgusting of them to live above the rest of them. So yes, one could suppose it really is no surprise that it happened in Bexley. It was unassuming, southeast of London. The townsfolk may argue otherwise, that it was unfathomable…  
One little boy could agree, that it was inevitable that it happened in Bexley. Too bad he was nowhere to be found, in the wreckage of his father's charred estate.  
No, only the roasted, burned to crisp corpses of Lord Phantomhive and his lovely lady wife were found among the rubble, alongside their loyal Deerhounds. But no sign of their only child could be found.

The house steward, a loyal long-term family friend and servant, was the only survivor within the household as far as anyone could tell. And the poor old fellow was unable to answer as to _who_ had victimized the Phantomhive family. He'd managed to survive because the fire never ensnared the wing of the mansion he had been in at the time, to the extent that it engulfed the Phantomhive family. In the hospital, his most frequent visitor doubled as both an overseeing doctor and friend- Lord Phantomhive's wife's sister. Angelina Dalles, a vivacious woman most often seen garbed in red. But even the withering light of her once bright eyes had almost entirely died. There was nothing either could- but she did allow the old steward to take up residence at her home once he was discharged from the hospital.

~.:*:.~

It was within a week of being discharged, that Tanaka made the call. His entire stay in the hospital, suffering and slowly healing, he leafed through papers. Looking, searching. _Something_ had to come up, an answer to his unheard prayer. He finally did, through underground internet searches.  
A promise from the dark, to answer his wish. Only a monetary price was asked, and a willingness for the customer to understand that legality would not be part of the hired's practice. In and out. That was all.  
Old Tanaka knew, and understood. But he'd give anything, even his soul to the Devil himself, if it meant finding the Phantomhive's child. So he made the call one evening. A traceless number answered, along with a silken voice.

~.:*:.~

Tanaka met the hired man by the end of the week. He'd taken a cab while Angelina was at work. The hired man had insisted with that silken voice of his, to meet somewhere public, somewhere _close_ to the remnants of the old manor. A small eatery, a minimized pub, was the most appropriate. The day was sunny for once, but cold. So cold, _bone-achingly cold_.  
Tanaka took a seat by a window, pulling his knit coat closer to his chest. The dim lights of the eatery allowed the sunlight outside to spill in, bathing the interior with enough light to see every crack in the wood floor and walls.

"_We'll meet at 11:45 on the dot."_ The man with that silken voice had said. Tanaka checked the old pocket watch he'd inherited, when he took on the role of butler and steward to the Phantomhive family. It was nearly-

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting." The old man's weary gray eyes flickered up to a tall man garbed in a long black coat. A pair of dark shades hid the man's eyes, and the collar of the coat obstructed a view of his face from the nose down. Though the old man could swear the youth before him was smirking.

"If I have," the newcomer bowed lightly, undoing the buckle and zipper of his coat collar. When he rose, Tanaka could see the young face that looked upon him. "Then allow me to apologize. It is uncouth for me to make my employer wait so long."

Tanaka cleared his throat. His age could be heard in the soft rasp of his tired chuckle. "No need to apologize lad. Now, do not be deterred by my abrasiveness, but you are much younger than what I expected."

The man's grin stretched, thin and calculating. "I never am. My age surprises _many_."

~.:*:.~

Tanaka stirred the tea in front of him absentmindedly with his spoon. He should be taking in the beverage, letting its warmth melt the cold weather and aches from age. But he'd lost his appetite for anything and everything.

"I've seen the wreckage left behind." The man placed his cup back onto its dish after a leisured gulp. "Whoever did this, was no amateur."

"I know," Tanaka placed his spoon down on the tea cup's coaster. "I'm not seeking revenge for whoever did this… Crow- I'm only looking for the boy. Find him, Crow. Bring Ciel _home_."

Crow quirked a brow. "I hope you're aware of the price of what you're asking."

"I do not care about the cost." Tanaka's low voice had lost vitality, turning to quiet steel instead. "Just find him. We'll cover your payment after."

"That's not what I- "

"I'm well aware of what you were inferring."

Crow grinned with nothing but amusement. "My contractors always amaze me, but none quite the way you just did." He reached across the table, a slim hand outstretched. "I'll find this child, then. I'm willing to make the contract."

Tanaka peered up at the young man, this 'Crow'. He nodded once, his monocle catching a beam of sunlight from outside, and took the contracted's hand. "A deal, then."

* * *

It could also be said it started in Hackney.

He hadn't been expecting a call at 4:00am. Especially not from _him_. From a contact in Ireland, a call from the big boss had woken him. An entire rich household in Hackney had been pillaged and set ablaze. Lord Trancy and his wife had been found, in large pools of their mixed blood. Family had been visiting, and all had died in similar gruesome fashions, including the small child Luka Macken, cousin to the now missing Alois. Apparently the maid's body was never found either. But the big boss wasn't looking for her. The kid was his concern. He'd had some dealings, underground incognito and topside in the public light, with the Trancy name- one could say there had been a form of camaraderie between them. He wanted young Alois Trancy found. And he wanted _him_ to track the child down.

"_Find him_, Faustus. The boss is giving us no leeway here, mate."

The man pushed himself up from his rumpled bedding, grunting into the phone. "This couldn't wait until a normal hour in the day, I take it?"

A weak laugh, lacking all evidence of real humor. "Sorry big man. But he wants this kid brought back. Y'know as well as us the Trancys' were an acquaintance. He wants the boy under our jurisdiction. For the kid's own protection, of course."

_So I have to start work at four in the morning?_ "Right, right. I'm on it. What're the instructions?"

Another laugh, this one sounding even more tired than Faustus felt. "Get up, get packed. You're heading for Hackney, Faustus."

"Hackney?" he frowned. "He wants me to start at their emaciated mansion, doesn't he?"

"All signs start at the source. That's one of the golden rules."

He sighed into the phone, stumbling from his bed. "What time do I need to be there?"

"No later than 6:30am. Big boss likes ya, Spider. Otherwise for the rest of us, we'd have to be there an hour and a half earlier."

_Fantastic_. "I'll head out prior to that. Anything else I need to know?"

"Yeah. He wants him alive, Spider. He doesn't care how, just bring him in _alive_."

He laughed at that. "That's the easy bit. Finding him will be the headache. But with the rising numbers in human trafficking, locating him won't be nearly as hard as you're making it out to be."

"Good to know." A laugh. "…Faustus. He also wants to talk to you at some point- and soon. Wouldn't say about what. But I have a feeling you know…?"

He cringed, faltering in gathering his things before his, now, much-needed shower. He pushed back his dark burgundy hair. "…Yeah," he sighed, his tone steeled and harsh. "I'm well aware. You'd do best to stay out of it. Wouldn't do you any favors in his books."

"Right, right…! Didn't mean to push any buttons, mate."

"I figured as much." He paused, pulling out a gray button-up. He could see the faintest flickering of his khaki eyes staring back at him in the window. "Is that it?"

"Yessir."

He hung up the phone, tossing it onto the bed with a pair of pressed slacks. He frowned, more thoughtful than before, raking both hands through his hair.

"I seriously hope he pays up on that extended vacation. Tracking kids of aristocrats at this hour. _Is he daft?!_"

He swore in grumbles, making his way from his bedchambers to the larger-than-needed bathroom. The door slammed behind him, and the sound of water pouring from the shower-head drowning out his displeasure.

* * *

_The banter, the chatter. How disgusting. How they mingled and socialized, as if it weren't an underground child auction. It hadn't taken long to locate one. It hadn't taken long to locate _this_ one in particular. The problem that bothered the man dressed in; black slacks, black dress shirt, black coat, black gloves, black shoes… The problem that nagged very quietly in the back of his well-groomed head, was how there was no clear lead or leader to the circle. But he was not bothered like he should be. His contract had been to find Ciel Phantomhive, and return him to what little of his family still remained._

_Though, he grinned behind a black eye mask, he had to admit- the old steward had trumped him a bit in his intuition. The boy was alive, if all descriptions of him were accurate. And chances were high, that he was one of the next specimens to be auctioned off next. Although, from what his sources had mentioned, he would be anything _but_ cheap. But he wasn't here, in this untagged building, in the middle of the trash-washed streets of London, to buy the brat for his own pleasure. He was here, to eradicate whatever stood in the way of him and the kid. He had a paycheck waiting. But he'd enjoy the game. So he remained seated, sending empty grins to pretty little women who were watching the tall man in black, with his air of power, and youth._

_He was young. And he had the look, a kind that could costume him into the upper division of society in more places than he could count. That was _how_ he could slip into places like this; _how_ he could charm his way to receive information. It was his trump card, his fallback, and his very first play in these games. He was neither a sinner, nor a saint. Though he'd been asked many times upon completion of his contracts- if he was neither, what was he? He'd only ever simper, sending his cliental a sultry look of complete amusement. _"If I had to choose, I'd prefer to be called a sinner, like all others of our race. But if I had to be labeled? Well then…where would the fun be in that?"  
_And he'd vanish, like a crow in the night._

_People murmured around him with too much excitement, the lights dimming again in that stuffy, over-packed room. Too many people for his liking. _

_An overly-indulged middle-aged man, behind a mask of gold and silver- how pompous, took center stage again. Ah. Another child to be sold. The man began to babble excitedly, about the rarity of the next specimen. How lovely he was indeed! Ha. A child was no toy, no dolly to play with. Even the man in black, with his equally black heart, could differentiate the morality of wrong from right. _

_But once the cage had been rolled to the stage and uncovered for all to see, even he could see as to why they were so excited to sell him. Small, young, with large cobalt eyes, and downy-soft charcoal hair- Ciel Phantomhive was indeed the prize to be seen. Crow had to give credit where credit was due- the child's physical features were nigh impossible to replicate. Compatible genetics from both sides, lucky him. _

_Immediately the crowd launched from their seats, waving their paddles high in the air, shouting and shrieking ludicrous prices for the child. _

_So Crow took his leave. He rose slowly, unassuming, backing away, ducking down, slipping between bodies that were willing to pay their own souls to have entitlement to the boy. He slipped away, out the doors that shut with a soft click- inaudible over the racket inside. His feet moved swift and silent over marble floors as he took a right down the corridor, changing his path once another alcove came upon him. He'd mapped the area prior to arrival, even checking it out in the daylight when people came and went during the workday. So he knew by easy memorization the route and location of the stage's backdoor. He nudged the door open with the toe of his dress shoes and shoulder, its lock not in place; unsurprised, he figured as much. Along the way, he'd buttoned and secured his coat's high collar. Masked by both the coat and eye mask, he sauntered in silence, remaining in the backstage shadows. He pulled a slim S&W 1911 Bobtail from the concealed protection of his coat. He was oddly fond of this one, a reminder from one trip to the States he'd taken a few years ago. A souvenir, as he started a new clean slate. _

_The mahogany of his irises glimmered by the dim, dim lights, barely flickering behind the mask. He stepped. Another. His pace slowing significantly as the gleeful auctioneer continued reaping in higher bids. Poor fool._

_He lifted the firearm, raising it to eyelevel and pointing. He grinned. _

"_Three million pounds!" An enthusiast- who clearly salivated at the prospect of owning the poor child._

BANG.

_Clean shot through the side of his head. Crow locked the safety of his gun, placing it back into his coat, waltzing to the stage as the bidders finally silenced their bidding war when their seller fell down dead. _

"_I'm sorry to say, but this party is over." Crow grinned down from the stage. They stared up at him in fear. He relished in it, feeding from their palpable emotion like a drug. "Isn't it about time you all…leave?"_

_The doors were nearly ripped from their hinges as the rich sheep screamed and fled the scene in their chaotic flock. _

_He looked over his shoulder, noting the nearly dead look in the young eyes staring up at him. He continued watching the boy, as the boy watched him- even as he crouched down and sought the cage's keys from the auctioneer. _

"…_Who are you?"_

_He didn't answer the boy, even as he unlocked the door. He noticed, once up close, the opaque film of his right eye. That would need medical attention…_

"…_Why are you here? …Why did you help me?"_

_Crow finally took it upon himself to answer. "I was hired to. No more. No less."_

~.:*:.:*:.~

Within six weeks of the deal, the young Phantomhive child was located and returned to where he was needed. Indeed, he had been right- the boy's eye was not in good shape. No one was sure if his eyesight would ever clear in it. It was doubtful, but there was no harm remaining faintly hopeful.

Yes, Crow had brought him to the hospital immediately, after calling in to Tanaka. The old man rushed to meet them, with Anne Dalles hopping into the driver's seat of her luxury car; with her paycheck and no family to support, she found it appropriate to spend on herself as she saw fit.

The doctors and nursing staff had wanted to question the black-clothed man. But that was not of their jurisdiction. They rushed to check and treat little Ciel, leaving all question as to what happened out of it.

So Crow remained in the back of the room, standing a stark contrast to the white of the medical walls in all of his black attire. Angelina and Tanaka came barreling in not too terribly long later, as the doctor was finishing wrapping a bandage around Ciel's bad eye.  
Through the cobalt of his remaining eye, the glassy texture of watery tears coated the orb. "_G-grampa…_!"  
The old steward lurched forward, bringing the small boy into his arms. "Young master…! You…really are alive…!"

The vivacious woman in red swooped in, caging the child into a second embrace, trapped between the two ecstatically sobbing adults. When they pulled away, still crying, the child finally managed to meekly ask Tanaka what had happened. But he held no answers. The child's face fell, hardening like old weathered stone.  
Crow could see the traces of lost innocence, curiously noting the change in the steeling of his small face. The boy could no longer be seen as a child. How curious…

"_You_."

The boy's eyes were on him. So the man in black reciprocated the gaze. By that point, Angelina finally noticed him, bolting upright and tense. After all, she knew not of his existence until that night, with her missing nephew in tow.

Ciel's one eye frowned. "You're dangerous."

His lips quirked. "Are you just now figuring that out?"

The child scowled more. "Of course not. But…just what _are_ you?"

Crow chuckled quietly. "I am whatever my contractor needs me to be. A shadow to the law, who sweeps up the filth that likes to play by their own rules." He sobered. "_Why_?"

Ciel turned thoughtful. "I want revenge. For my parents, and for myself for what happened after they…" He trailed off.

"_Ciel_!"

His one eye turned to his aunt. "I know what I'm doing, Aunt Anne."

"But Ciel, we don't know this man. It's a bloody miracle he brought you back to us. We oughtn't pester him farther…"

"Now wait a minute Angelina…"

"_No_, Tanaka!"

"_Enough_."

All eyes fell to Ciel. He was staring at the newcomer, garbed in black. "I want to hire you. I want to find who did this. What say you to a deal? I can pay you whatever it is that you're asking."

"_Ciel_!"

The boy shook his head. "I've made up my mind. I've been around him for hours, and he hasn't tried to hurt me. Even Tanaka trusted him enough to find me. Besides- I need a chess piece to trump the game."

Tanaka placed a wrinkled hand over Anne's shoulder. "My lady, please see reason. If nothing else, Ciel is in danger for now. Now granted, we have no idea who this man is. But I'm willing to stake my life on the fact that should Master Ciel hire him, he will remain loyal under contract. He is young, and intelligent. He _found_ him, Angelina. He brought Ciel back."

She bit her red-red bottom lip, eyeing her nephew and the black-clothed man. She finally sighed.

Ciel looked to the man again, having received no answer. "So? What say you?"

The man simpered, brushing a gloved hand over his exposed chin. "Now _why_ would I agree to work for a brat?"

"I have money. And my life is on the line. Besides, wouldn't you like something more difficult to challenge you than finding me?"

The kid made a good point. Crow brushed a hand over his chin again. "Then I suppose we'll need to formalize what this contract entails. A precaution before I accept _any_ job I'm considering taking on."

* * *

_Blood pooled at his feet, lapping against designer dress shoes and slacks. A burgundy-black eyebrow twitched. _Another pair I need to burn_._

_Behind him, a trembling boy with angel-blond hair huddled trembling. He hadn't stopped since before the Spider arrived. And he hadn't escalated nor calmed as the arachnid consumed the nest he'd found his target in. A small town in France. Oh, the big boss was going to be most unpleased to learn that it had wandered so close to one of his turfs. Oh well, he did as ordered, leaving no one alive to squeal. All that remained for him to do was set the place ablaze, and get the kid to headquarters; the closest being located in Paris. But there _were_ other children, all part of a sex trafficking ring consisting of children as the products. He'd have to call in. Let the big boss send out a crew to relocate them. Then the warehouse could be torched. Funny, the entire system was catacombs, a labyrinth to find and decode. There were still no answers. Just victimized children, and a different spider's web of where it originated. Oh he was _not_ going to be happy with whatever came his way next…_

_He turned on his heel, stooping to pick up the child. There was no protest, only more silent sobs wracking a malnourished body. He swept the two of them out through the shadows, winding down alleyways where the light was nigh existent. He'd been smart, parking blocks away. Dawn was approaching, however, and he needed to hurry before he was seen- the same for the eerily silent warehouse located inconspicuously in the middle of Bordeaux's midtown district. Finally the hood of his car came into view. He fumbled, not ungracefully, to unlock the damned rental. He was quick to settle the child into the passenger's seat. But when he made to leave, the child would not let go of his undershirt (the button up he'd been wearing having gone to cover Alois's stark-naked body). _

"_Alois, let go," he reprimanded gently, taking the boy's bony fists into his own large palms. "I'm not leaving you behind, there's no need to worry. I need you to let go now, so I can get you to a safe place. Okay? Can you do that?"_

_The boy nodded meekly, finally letting go of his trembling vice grip, allowing the grownup to buckle him in. _

_So Spider hurried to the driver's side, buckling himself to the seat. The engine revved, and he quickly sped down the road. He fiddled with the sound system, the small computer screen beeping quietly as he sifted through…contact numbers? A dial tone sounded. And then a voice, smooth and resonating with an authority the child did not yet know._

"_Yes?"_

"_Assignment complete. We're en route to the capital as we speak."_

"_Well done. What about their safe house?"_

_Spider grimaced. "Negative. There are, according to my quick count, approximately twenty-seven more still inside. A crew needs to head in and relocate them. Then the place can be wiped off the map."_

_A soft sigh. "It cannot be helped. Well done, Faustus. But then, it is expected whenever I give you an assignment. I'll see you in five hours."_

_Spider chuckled. "What? No extra time in case of traffic or construction?"_

_A reciprocated chuckle of amusement. "Don't push it, Arachnid."_

~.:*:.*:.~

The interior of the meeting room never changed. Always dark reddish woods, lavish tables well preserved and glossed, and the same black plush chairs. Always impeccable. Always homey. And _always_ foreboding. It was well into the afternoon. Big boss was busy with paperwork and conference calls, plus a few favors here and there. Child trafficking wasn't his only focus. There was always crime. Crime topside, and crime underground. But what else was to be expected when he doubled as a high-power judge in the light in France, and the mob boss of one of the Irish mafias, with territory scattered across both France and Ireland, and connections in more places than could be counted on all one's fingers and toes? Eryl Coalter. A man of law, of morality. A good man all around, with good intentions, and giving opportunity to many. It was because of him that Faustus was stable financially and mentally. The Spider looked to the window from his seat at the table. He was tired, yes, but not worried. Big boss liked him well enough, and he'd succeeded in bringing Alois to him safely. Now the boy was being looked after by Eryl's own company- the man had his own medical team at his disposal even topside.

But he had to admit, he always _hated_ Paris. Spider sighed tiredly. He always had, always would. But Eryl's wife, Reine, was from France. A model in her youth- _Hell, she's still a lovely sight to see_, she refused to leave her home behind even now. So they periodically switched residences between Ireland, France, and on occasion Britain. How did he know all of this? He was a private freelancer under Coalter, and had been since he was in his late teen years. He could do as he pleased, and work as he saw fit, unless big boss called.

It was a damn good thing he enjoyed his job well enough.

The door clicked open, only to click shut behind the soft tapping of unhurried steps.

"Faustus, my Arachnid." That smooth voice, aged well and still cheeky even as he neared fifty- less than two years to go. Graying red-orange hair from deep Irish roots, a well-humored smile. Eryl Coalter, the big boss himself. "You've done well, son. As is expected."

Faustus looked up as the boss placed a warm hand over his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. He returned the greeting with a subtle nod of his head, a polite grin stretched over his sharp face. "Yessir. It wasn't easy, but it went smoother than anticipated."

The boss sat down in a plush chair beside his young employee. "Which is one issue we need to discuss."

Face falling, Faustus sighed tiredly. "There are no obvious leads, no traces, as to who is in charge. This isn't the only incident of child trafficking. I've been keeping an eye out, as per your request, Sir. But every account of them leads to dead ends. I've consulted with the others you've tasked to find answers. We're coming up short."

Coalter nodded politely, listening as his Spider went into detail everything that he knew, up to the rescue of young Alois Trancy. He looked sharply to his young protégé, eyes zeroing in on his irises once he'd silenced himself. "Which brings me to your next assignment, Faustus. Until we find and eliminate the individual, or _individuals_, responsible for this heinous crime, I'm placing Alois under your care."

"_W-what_?!" Spider spluttered. "Pardon me, Sir. But you expect me to…beg pardon for this terminology, but you're expecting me to become a full time _baby-sitter_?"

"Yes." Coalter quirked a brow. "Is that a problem, Spider?"

He cringed. "I wouldn't say I'm qualified to watch a _kid_. I track answers, I piece puzzles together, and I kill. What about that screams '_child-friendly_', if I may inquire?"

Big boss grinned. "Because you're sharp in intellect, your intuition is always at top bracket, and because you can kill cleanly and without hesitation when the need arises. You can very obviously keep the boy safe."

"If his life is so precious, how is he expected to finish his education?" Anything to try and weasel his way out of this assignment. _Anything_.

Coalter cackled from outright humor. "No backing out of this, Faustus. Besides, just call her up."

_Her_. Faustus sent Coalter a wary look. "…What makes you so sure _she_ will want any part of this? If you're involved, Sir, she'll hightail out of it…"

"She won't if you ask."

Spider's face hollowed. "You give our companionship too much credit. There is only so far she'll listen to me."

"Nonsense!" Coalter was sure; sure of the situation, and sure that she would help if it involved a child in need. "She's qualified with a degree in education- has been for nearly two years now. Enjoys helping children in school. She's currently living in London. Teaching part time, and working at a pub in the evenings."

"You let her _what_…?"

"Relax. _He_ was willing to take the job when I called him up and told him I needed someone to watch over her."

If he was involved, then Faustus supposed he could trust she was in capable hands. He stretched, kinks cracking as his spine was forced to bend. "Well, I suppose I'll call her when I return to London, then…"

"Yes indeed." Coalter sent his Spider a knowing smirk. "Maybe see if she's willing to grab a drink. It would be a…wonderful opportunity for the two of you to catch up. Maybe rethink the engagement."

Faustus halted all movement, another wary look passed from him to Coalter. "She won't go for it. She didn't want it the first time you mentioned it. She won't change her mind now."

"It's worth a chance, though." Coalter's face hardened; not at his employee, but at the reality and truth. "Faustus. I want my daughter _home_. Enough of this foolish gallivanting. Her place is here, with her family. Don't you agree, Claude?"

"…" The Spider fell silent. Normally, he wasn't much of a talker. His boss? Sure, he could have a good laugh, grab a bite to eat or go out in general and the experience was always pleasant. He considered Eryl to be a father figure in his rather fucked up young life. He'd taken bad turns, and was spiraling down a very bad road at one point. And that man had taken him by the arm, and saved him from a plunge into black waters best left unexplored. But when it came to her? He couldn't answer, because part of him disagreed- the only time he'd disagree.  
He cleared his throat, giving his boss a trademark, callous smirk instead, despite the gray-hollowness still palpable to his face. "So I take it I'm moving once I return with Young Trancy?"

Coalter chuckled, patting the young man on the shoulder, squeezing it lightly. "My boy, my dear Spider- your things are being moved as we _speak_."

_Oh joy. Permanent babysitting, relocating, and another shot at matchmaking without consent from either of us. He owes me an _extended_ vacation once this situation is done and dealt with. I'll _demand_ for it, if I must._

* * *

_**Author's Endnote:**_

_So here we are guys! A new story, because I'm procrastinating on homework, and this story is nagging at me! So the first two chapters are setting up a few characters (mainly the adults this revolves around). Third chapter will be the real start of the plot, which will be set about two years from now? So twelve year old Ciel, thirteen year old Alois for the rest of the story. Or older, depending how long this runs for~ _

_I apologize for any and all errors, please try to disregard them if possible. (: I'm not trying to be perfect (nothing is, anyway!), and am just having a bit of fun concocting this new universe._

_I'm so excited guys! Lots of drama, lots of very touchy subjects, I can't wait to dip my fingers into this!_

_Love, AoZ~_


	2. Chapter II: (Suffocation, Isolation)

_As a side note- the main OC in this fanfiction doubles as the one in my other Kuro-fic. Her real name is slightly altered, to fit the story- her story does mirror to some extent the other fic as well…just, humanized! (She is still Abbie, just…not? You'll see soon enough…I hope…!)_

_Anyway, this chapter dates prior to the first by about a year, maybe a bit more. After this, we'll be in present day! _

_**Disclaimer:  
**I own nothing but my OC(s), and the idea for this plot. Everything related to Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji belongs to Yana Toboso. _

* * *

**The Demons Inside**

**II. **

_**Suffocation, Isolation. **_

* * *

Fingernails buried into the flesh of her palms. Furious wouldn't be enough to cover it. The stoic calm of her father's face was baffling of itself, as she herself was livid with absolute fury. He'd called her up just days ago, spouting sweet words of _how much he missed his baby girl_. Pathetic. She'd been duped. He'd found another way to try and reign her back to the nest. And now she stood, in the same cherry wood office, with the same glossy table, and same oversized luxury chairs any CEO would be lusting after.

"How _dare_ you try and play that card!" she finally shrieked, nails digging deeper into her hands. "You have no authority to do this to me, not in this era!"

His eyes darkened, going cold. "I beg to differ, sweet one. In our world, as a business leader, I have every bit of authority to keep my child close to home."

"I'm _twenty-one_!"

"Regardless of your age. After the tragedy with Maria, I do not trust the safety of _any_ of my children where I cannot see them." His eyes dulled, the fiery brown graying as the man before her reclined wearily back into the plush black office chair.

_Maria_. "…Papa, that's not fair." Her inherited eyes of his softened, tired and worn. "You let Juliette and Camile both go out into the world…"

"They originally left so that they could hone in on their own skillset, to better structure and strengthen the family's name and business. They both returned of their own volition, now only venturing out when it deals with business- or the rare vacation. And _both_ have been wedded."

Her eyes narrowed, face hardening. "Just because that's what they chose to do, doesn't mean you can push this arrangement on me! I'm not the only factor into this. Do you honestly think your eight-legged _pet _isn't having drawbacks about this?!"

"He is my employee, my protégé, to mold and move as I see fit." Her father mused. "But that does not mean I do not care about his wellbeing. He is like a son to me, after watching him grow and flourish under my care. I've allowed him to wander on his own, making sure he has a roof over his head and enough luxuries and money in the bank to do as he sees fit when not working on assignment for me. He is a good young man- respectable, intelligent, and strong. He would make a fine match for you, love."

She turned her head away. "…But it's not what _I_ want."

"How could it not be? Well provided, and living far enough that you aren't under my constant surveillance. And one day, the two of you will take up another branch of the business as equal partners. I really don't see how you can compla-"

"_Because I don't want to be your heir!_"

He was taken aback by her outburst. He'd heard similar words for years. He'd cracked enough before upon hearing them, allowing her to study in Britain to become a qualified educator. She'd graduated her secondary education at sixteen, due to his restrictions and hiring of private tutors and instructors. Through her exams and his pulling of strings, she'd gone to and graduated college after roughly three years, placing her at twenty upon graduation. For the last year she had been exploring parts of Europe, taking her degree and qualification with her to rack up experience.  
He had grown more cautious, though, during her later years at university. Informants had brought information to him of a romance that had spanned well over a year. It ended for unknown reasons; his little girl showing no signs of heartbreak, fury, or devastation. He never brought it up. She never told him outright.

Since then, he'd become acutely aware of the rift growing between he and her. She had also been distancing herself from her mother and sisters, and her baby brother. His youngest daughter may have well been aware as to the reasons why, but if she did, she showed no hint or signs of knowing anything.

He frowned at her, rubbing a calloused hand over his sinuses. "What do you mean you don't want that mantel? It is in your blood. It is part of you, sweetheart. Just as it is part of me, and part of Shea. Of all of my children, you two are the only ones to show natural-born signs of capable leadership. This _is_ our family business, and duty."

She shook her head, grabbing her coat from the unoccupied chair across from him, and turned to leave. "That's just it, Papa. I want to choose my identity, not have it forged before my eyes without my consent."

~.:*:.~

The door clicked shut behind her. Her breathing heightened, quivering and stuttering as her lungs forgot how to breathe. She fell back against the wall behind her, bringing a hand to her mouth. _No, no, no…nonono_. She shook her head, pressing harder to muffle the choking noises emanating from her.

A rough hand brushed feather-light over her temple, drawing a startled gasp from her chest. At least the alarm had evened out her breathing. Her eyes met an all too familiar shade of khaki, looking down at her from behind silver-frames.

"_Claude_…"

He shook his head, brushing layered ginger hair out of her eyes. He smirked faintly. "You've cut your hair since I last saw you."

She chuckled at the completely abrupt off topic remark, hiccupping as she pulled herself back to a somewhat-solid state. "Yeah, it's been a while…"  
She sobered up quickly. "…Claude…I'm… I'm _so_ sorry, Claude." She murmured. "I know you had to have heard at least a large portion of that."

He pat her head lightly, pulling her away- _away_ from the damned office, and away from the pain and heat still roiling around it. "You don't need to explain."

"Yes I do!" She jerked away, but he held fast. "You're my _friend_, someone very important to me. But Claude…I can't do this. I won't let my life be decided by _anyone_ but me. I want my name to stand on its own, not be another branch of the business…"

He chuckled tiredly, leading her outside. A furnished patio waited, unoccupied. He found it appropriate. He forced her to take a seat, joining her without breaking the bubble of personal space between them. "Fiery as ever, kitten."

She laughed weakly, a hint of bitterness resonating. "That name never suited me."

"Oh yes it does, more so since you took in that furball."

"Yeah well," she laughed again, looking up to a surprisingly clear blue sky. There hadn't been many of those of late. "…You weren't around when I brought him in. At the time, I wasn't even sure I would keep Cass. But I did, after he left. No real reason why I did. I suppose…the company wasn't taxing, and he's easier to leave alone than a dog."

Claude simpered, leaning over and ruffling her mid-long hair. "Just out of curiosity," he dodged the topic of _him_. "Would it really be so terrible to marry me?"

She paused mid swipe, frowning thoughtfully. "…No. It wouldn't. You'd make _any_ girl very happy. It's not that I don't love you. Our friendship is our strongpoint, though- we agreed on that mutually. But more than that, I'm not the type of girl to get married. It's never crossed my mind- not with him, and not with you." She grinned teasingly at him. "So don't feel inferior. It's just not for me. _Especially_ with what I have planned down the road."

He guffawed, slapping a hand to his thigh. He brushed a thumb over his eye, wiping away the tears from his harsh laughter. "Oh, how you cease to amaze Abi."

She elbowed his side, snickering when he buckled over in pain. Her autumn brown eyes looked again to the sky, letting the Paris sun drown her in its light. "…I am sorry…"

* * *

_It had been a good idea, a good one indeed. To relocate in his early retirement to the coastline of Wales. Away from the business, away from him, away from his mistake…that cost him something more precious than he cared to admit out loud. The figure clad in charcoal robes hummed thoughtfully, tapping elongated nails along the bridge of his own nose. He'd had a good long run in the business, he'd often muse. Capable, flirtatious, adventurer. The man in charge promoted him time and time again, bringing him in so close as to place the care of his family in his charge.  
He was surrounded by wildflowers, bushes upon bushes; a never-ending palate of color and fragrance. It was heaven, nirvana even. And at the same time, purgatory. But he was willing to accept the time he had left to live, as punishment for not being able to protect his charge. _

_He plucked a wild leek, humming thoughtfully at its bright purple hue. _

"_A pretty sprout, often misunderstood." He mused, letting it go as a breeze blew by. "And yet, it holds its own beauty, uncopied. Pity the rest of the world just can't see that."_

_The breeze blew harder, sending his long silver-gray locks dancing in its grip. For a brief moment, saturated spring green eyes could be seen staring coldly at the world, despite the twisted simpering smile splaying over his wide mouth. The scars along his face and neck pulling and stretching with his grin. How many years had it been? Since he had retired. Since she had died. He plucked a cuckooflower, placing it through one of the braids of his long hair. His grin fell, as he stood in the midst of all the wild flora. _

"_I wonder what she's thinking now…?"_

* * *

"_How could you let this happen?!"_

"_S-Sir, we're so sorry. S-she just slipped by us. Our tech wing is looking into it now, but it appears she managed to shut off all surveillance without us knowing. J-just enough for her to sneak out undetected."_

_They stood in the guestroom she had been staying in at his manor. Key word being _had_. At some point in the earliest hours of the morning, she had slipped out undetected, some of her things and all. What had been left behind were all her credit cards and visas, and the small cross her mother had given her as a gift after… Maria…_

_He shook his head. Eryl scowled at his faculty. "I want her located. _NOW!_"_

_The rest bolted from the vicinity, seeking to be anywhere but within the path of Coalter's wrath. Eryl stooped, lightly fingering the mangled and shattered sterling silver chain. His face fell and sank, showing the aging his life had brought upon him.  
She had taken simple clothes, and whatever cash she had stowed away. All of her visas and credit cards remaining. She was serious this time. Reine was going to be most displeased when she learned their daughter had finally left home. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his sinuses. _

"_Sir…"_

_He looked over his shoulder, face crestfallen. "Yes?"_

"_Sir, she's hopped a plane to Edinburgh."_

_So that was her game. He knew now who she sought. He could bar him from giving her a new ID and papers, but that would only bring more heat and venom between them.  
"Leave her be. Instead, watch her movements and report any changes. I'm heading to Cardigan."_

"_You mean…?"_

"_Aye, that I do. It's time to bring him back to work."_

* * *

"I'm both surprised, and not at all, to see you at my isolated cottage, Eryl."

The aging man laughed lightly, genuinely. "It's been a long time, Cyrus."

"Aye, that it has." The head of silver hair simpered. He gestured to a simple china set. "Tea?"

"I could use a cup or two, my friend."

They drank in silence. Eryl kept his eyes focused on the world outside the window. It was beautiful. But it was also lonely. He frowned in thought.

"You're reading too much into things that need not be mulled over."

He eyed his old freelancer. "You've found a beautiful place to make your own purgatory."

The other shrugged. "It is, what it is. After everything that happened, I thought this most appropriate- my own slice of Heaven and Hell together in tangent."

"I hope you haven't settled your roots too far in, then." He grinned at the puzzled puckering of lips. "I'd like you to come back to work, Cyrus. Just once more."

The other sobered. "It's been a good while since I last took up the rank, Eryl."

"Six years, I know."

"…I have a feeling this isn't the usual assignment. Care to elaborate?"

Coalter paused, sucking on his teeth while he carefully constructed what it was he was asking. "…She's finally left."

Cyrus hummed in thought. "…Who?" He had a hunch he knew _exactly_ who it was.

"Breila… She's finally taken measures to leave. She's in Edinburgh, no doubt getting new papers documented and forged by Drossel."

Cyrus chuckled. "Well it's 'bout time she flew the coop."

"Cyrus." The conversation grew evermore serious. "You know what it is she plans to do. Maria's death not only left a permanent mark on your soul and heart, but hers as well. She'll stop at nothing, now, to find them. She's finally taken up the hunt."

The other clicked his teeth. Eryl was indeed correct. While spirited and highly intelligent, a dangerous fire had been sparked within the girl six years ago. It did not help that she showed the capability of relentless execution.  
"But what is it you're trying to sway me to do, my friend? I can't bring her back to you forcefully."

Eryl nodded once. "Find her, and guard her. And should anything come up, any leads at all, make sure that she doesn't catch wind. I've lost one child. Don't make me lose another, Cyrus."

The other remained silent and neutral, relaxed even. But slowly, oh so slowly, a grin broke across his face again. "I won't let this one die, my friend."

* * *

_**Author's Endnote:**_

_This one isn't nearly as long. But that's because this time there wasn't much that needed details. Granted, I'm not totally thrilled with this chapter. But it was needed to go into the real story. Why she defected from home, and a little about the sad man that is known as Cyrus. (Any guesses to his real identity~? ;) I actually read all of his dialogue in his voice while I was writing…)_

_Just some quick tidbits:  
Eryl, nor Abbie's family, will make much of an appearance. They affect her in different ways, and will pop up from time to time. They are not main cast. But they'll show frequently when the need arises. 3_

_There will be romance. But not in the way I might have accidentally made it seem. It's a support to one of the themes throughout the story. This story is about the necessity to form bonds with people, and the struggle to survive. Eventually, the ClaudexAbixSebastian triangle will break. But who will be with whom? Well, who knows! [I know…! With a few surprises too!] I'll let you guys mull it over._

_Yes, there will be moments between Claude and Sebastian. Many moments. Heated moments. Touching moments. As with Abbie and Claude, and Abbie and Sebastian. The three of them have a special dynamic, one that I plan to utilize to the fullest. _

_Ciel and Alois are part of the story. Even if I'm not writing directly from their viewpoints as often as some of you may like, they drive the story, because the other three _have_ to cooperate and exist together, in order to protect them. Ciel and Alois are the driving factors to the overall point/plot/theme._

_So, here you go! Onwards to the real juice!_

_~ AoZ _


	3. Chapter III: (Suffering as a Servant)

_Now we're in present time! Set roughly two years after chapter one- give or take several months. _

_**Disclaimer:**_

_I own nothing but my OC(s), and the idea for this plot. Everything related to Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji belongs to Yana Toboso. _

* * *

**The Demons Inside**

**III. **

_**Suffering as a Servant **_

* * *

When he had agreed to the contract two years ago, he really should have been a bit more careful about accepting the brat's demands. Selfish, indulgent, snarky even. It really should not have been possible for the brat to dive into those habits so quickly after all of the trauma he'd been through. Within the first three months, he'd developed a hot temper. Granted, his cooking _had_ been seriously lacking, even he himself could admit to that. But the chores, the housework, the little snot would nitpick at the most microscopic speck of dust.  
Surprisingly, even after two years, they were still residing at Dr. Dalles's private flat. Yes, an entire living space, with plenty of room for _all four of them_.  
And guess who was stuck looking after the place, keeping it immaculate, as per the demands (and assurance to his aunt that, since she was kind enough to let accommodate them, the _least_ they could do was pitch in and help keep the place up and going)…

That's right, the hired guard. Now posing, and expected to play the part of…_a butler_. Well, he always did enjoy a challenge. But housework and cooking? He never thought he'd be subjected to stoop so low.

But when he wasn't feeling an artery clog at the insufferable demands and wants of the child, he took time to wonder why Ciel had not insisted on hurrying the process of reconstructing his family's manor. He'd tried inquiring the boy a few times, but each time Ciel rebutted him with snide remarks. _Such a fickle tyke_.

"It's nearing ten in the morning." Tanaka approached the young man, chuckling into his wrinkled knuckles when he started.

"Is that so?" He looked to the pocket watch, the same one he'd seen Tanaka use upon their first meeting. Now that Ciel's game plan required him to act as the new head butler, the old man had placed its care and ownership to him. But, the old steward had been incredibly helpful in the early stages. He was patient, and guided the new servant in the ways of being a good butler, and what the job actually entailed. He'd never admit it aloud just how much, but he was appreciative of the guidance. "Indeed you are correct. My, the time has gone by without me this morning."

Tanaka nodded, smiling. "It's been a slow Saturday. But that doesn't mean we can slack off. Madame Red has plans for all of us today, so hurry on and wake the young master, Sebastian."

"Indeed."

Ah yes, _that name_. 'Sebastian Michaelis.' A faux name for a faux being. How appropriate, and all thanks to little Lord Phantomhive. What was uncalled for, was the first name deriving from Ciel's dog that had been lost in the fire.  
He'd just have to grin and bear with it, though. He'd already made the deal.

He shook his head, picking up a silver tray- set already with a light breakfast and steeping earl grey tea. Thoughts like that would get him nowhere, and as his schedule was already leaning more towards unpleasant, he didn't need to add another reason as to why it would be less than ideal.

Making his way down one of the shallow halls, Crow perched the tray to his hip with one hand, using the other to knock at Ciel's temporary room. "Master Ciel, it is time to wake up."

He heard a faint groan of protest, taking that as his cue to enter. The door opened with the smallest of squeaks from its hinges. He made his way in long strides, placing the tray on the nightstand beside the queen-size guest bed. A small lump buried in all blanketing layers shifted with another groan.  
He found _that_ amusing. Crow held back his simpers at the child's whining, moving to open the curtains and blinds. It was partly sunny, with a fifty-fifty chance for storms later on in the day. "I apologize, young master. But we have a busy day ahead, and it would be best if we could get you ready soon."

By that point, the now-twelve year old scowled up at his protector-and-servant. Although the look really resembled more of a pout. 'Sebastian' chuckled, shaking his head at the deepening frown while he poured the brat a cup of tea.

Ciel huffed. "What's on the menu today, Sebastian?"

"A cup of earl grey for a much needed wake up call," the butler spoke lightly. "And a small scone. We will be taking lunch in town, today. It will be a much needed break between Madame Red's excursions today."

He knew the brat had completely disregarded everything else he had said after the word "_scone_". He shook his head, going to one of the dressers and began rummaging through their contents. "You must be quick about your late-morning treat. You still need a shower, young master. Your aunt expects us to be ready to leave in roughly one hour."

Ciel was frowning at his back, even as he munched on his scone. Subconsciously, as he mulled over how the orange peel in it had really added a tasty tang, his right hand had begun to creep up to the bottom of his right eye.

Sebastian looked up, seeing the boy's softening frown and distancing gaze. "Are you alright, Master Ciel? Is your eye bothering you?"

The boy snapped out of his trance. "Of course not!" He hissed.

_Lies_.

He had lost the majority of his sight in his left eye. His vision was still partial, but much poorer than it had been, to the point he had taken to putting bandages or an eye patch over it. The imbalance of vision between the eyes was enough to make him suffer constant headaches. And so far, it appeared eye surgery was not a fix.

Sebastian nodded hesitantly, placing the clothes he had gathered in a neat stack at the foot of Ciel's bed. "Well then, I will take my leave now."

* * *

_Errands_ turned out to be more like _redoing her entire wardrobe_, when it came to Angelina's shopping excursions. Not only was she shopping for herself this go-round, but she was purchasing enough clothes to last Ciel through the late summer, entirety of winter, and should he _not_ endure a growth spurt, the beginning of spring. She'd even gone out of her way to buy both servants new attire- very upper class, and _very_ pricey.

"Think nothing of it!" Angelina insisted at Tanaka's light reprimanding. "You're as good as family. And _every_ man deserves some nice clothing for when he has the opportunity to go out for a night on the town."

"You humble us," Sebastian would have given her an acknowledging bow out of respect, as was proper etiquette of his servant's status. But he couldn't. Because _he_ was the only one capable of carrying her multitudes of boxes and bags. So he was stuck, as she had dragged the lot of them to her hairdresser. Tanaka, being the aged gentleman he was, had tried to coax the red lady into allowing him to help out. But she only laughed, telling him he shouldn't strain himself.  
And now, because the old man was off the hook, he sweet-talked Madam Red into letting him poke in at the bookshop across the street.  
_That bastard…_

"Just set those down there, Sebastian." Angelina was at the counter, chatting it up with a young worker, who was looking over their bookings.

The servant took her up on that offer, placing all twelve bags and five boxes down, strewing them over several of the large chairs scattered around the hair salon's front shop. Exasperatedly, though still cool and composed, he took off his servant's jacket, allowing it lay over the back of a chair he himself took occupancy of. Across from him, already seated and had been since they arrived, was Ciel. The brat was snickering at his expense.

_Two can play at that game_. Sebastian grinned impishly, tone professional and polite. "_Yes_? Is something wrong, young master Ciel?"

The brat's face soured quicker than ice melting in Death Valley. Before he could retort back, the sudden loud voice of his guard's newest number one fan squealed in the most horrendous way possible.

"Madam Red, how I've been _dying_ to see you!"

Sebastian's face nearly paled, though he kept it as straight as possible. The little shit across from him, however, was nearing busting a gut as he held in an apparent burst of laughter.

From the back of the shop, a wild, red-haired man came sashaying up to the front. Apparently, he was a good _friend_ of Angelina's. Actually, _he_ didn't quite cover it. The man was a loon, as far Sebastian was concerned. Flamboyant, dressing in a mix of men and women's clothing, obnoxiously loud, and demanding to be recognized as a _she_.  
These were all but minor irritants. The real problem Sebastian had was how adamant his new pursuer had been, for the last two years, whenever he caught wind or sight of him. This _nuisance_ was actually Angelina's hairdresser as well. It had all happened the very first time Sebastian (and Ciel) had been unfortunate enough to be dragged along while on her errands-run, and she'd had a hair appointment scheduled. It was spring. She wanted something _fun _for her hair. And what better time than when everyone apparently suffered _spring fever_? To cut the tale short- he'd been nearly sexually assaulted, and had nearly snapped the other's neck.

Since then, the other had been lusting and obsessing after him. Not enough to stalk him. But enough to try and get a rise out of him, with hopes of hot and kinky sex.  
Sebastian's skin always crawled. Which was impressive in a horrifying way, because what he had done in his life should bother him _much_ more than the sex-crazed hairdresser.

And speak of the devil… "_Bassy_! Annnne, you need to let me know when you bring my pumpkin along!"

And _there_ were those arms, wrapped in red as per usual, invading the personal bubble around his neck.

"Oh Grell!" Angelina just laughed. "I'm sorry love; it must have slipped my mind. I thought it was assumed already that he'd be around whenever I'm on my seasonal excursions."

"Indeed, _indeed_!" More strangling suffocation around his neck. The little brat wasn't helping with his cheeky little grin. The damned red-headed man was trying his last strands of patience, nuzzling his cheek and moving down to his jaw. "_Baaassy_, my love! Oh how the years have dragged slowly! Your arms not there to protect me, your body not beside me to warm my bed at night…!"

Michaelis forced a grin, a cold-blooded, merciless spread of his thin lips, and slipped out of Grell's grip without so much as a struggle. "_Pardonne moi_, 'my _lady_'. But it is most inappropriate to publicly grope _anyone_, let alone a lowly servant such as me."

"How rude!" But Grell was only more heated in his passion. "But so cold, as expected. You can always set me ablaze with that icy heart of yours, Bassy."

~.:*:.~

The appointment was taking longer than it should, if one were to ask the tense and peevish servant.  
It didn't help when Ciel had pestered him for five minutes about his French slip. Finally, he vaguely let slip he'd lived in France at one point. When the brat asked for elaboration, he silenced him with a sharp look. _"It would be wise of you to keep out of it, young master."_

His head was leaned back, pressing into the wall behind his chair. Above him, a television played, _too loudly_, but yet hardly heard by the abundant chatter within the salon. _Women_.

However, one of the women had been vaguely watching the television from the mirror as her stylist continued adding bleach in patterns to her hair (along with watching _him_, as did the rest of the women on the premise). It was the one flickering her attention three ways, that suddenly let out a gasp, bringing her hands, covered by the plastic drape, to her mouth as she murmured and tsked. Soon enough, the rest caught on.

"I know…! It's such a horrifying thought."

"How terrible!"

"I don't feel safe on these streets anymore, not with heinous crimes like _that_ going on throughout the city."

"You're telling me! My hubby won't even let me run to the store down the street from our house once the sun goes down."

_Ah, yes. The sudden outbreak of dead women. All single, all successful in their own right. And they all appeared to be prostitutes. Doesn't _this_ sound familiar; history enjoys repeating itself in the most…humorous of ways and circumstances._

There wasn't a paper or news program who wasn't discussing the serial murders- a sudden outbreak that had been going on for roughly six weeks. And Ciel was following it _intensely_.Under negotiations of their contract, Crow had been quite surprised that the Phantomhive family was responsible for the organization and order of the underground crime rings throughout England. Tanaka confirming it, made it all the more real and unbelievable. It was systematic network, keeping the balance of law enforcement and criminal activity leveled out. The Phantomhive family had a topside business, an old toy and confections company that been around since the mid-1800's; and it was still running strong. Tanaka had taken over control, until Sebastian could oversee it. When Ciel reached appropriate age, everything would be handed over to him, and he could take the reins as heir.  
For now, Ciel's focus was his schooling- both academically and of his family's heritage and duties. He was a quick learner, and whatever happened to him after his parents died and he was kidnapped, had only hardened his heart- making for an _excellent_ merciless ring leader of England's underground. This case current case was on a grand scale, one of which Ciel wanted to see what his two years of education had taught him. He wanted to see how prepared he was for his ultimate goal. _All the more interesting. I wonder what this boy is capable of, despite his weak demeanour_.  
And who was his new servant and guard, to argue with his young master?

Grell hummed forlornly, melodramatic and all. "So tragic! So many beautiful women, wiped off this earth. Only the coldest of hearts, or most passionate, could do such a thing."

Ciel turned to look at the crazed man. "Are you saying you know something, Grell?"

"No more than anyone else," Grell shrugged, snipping more of Angelina's hair into layers. "I _can_ tell you this. Only beneath the surface are people talking. Rumor has it, the murders are lookin' more and more like those old Jack the Ripper cold cases from centuries back."

"Indeed," Anne agreed. "Back at the hospital, there's been nothing but gossip about it. No one knows much, and what they do, it's rather gruesome."

Sebastian noticed the contemplative expression crossing his young master's features. He wanted to know more, now that his curiosity had been piqued.

"So if you're saying someone, hypothetically, wished to learn more, they should look underground?"

Well, the boy wasn't earning any favors by the greying complexion of the women in the salon. Even his aunt seemed to pale. Grell looked at the boy with a fixed and sizzling gaze.

"…Aren't you a little _young_ to be wondering about this…?" Grell spoke carefully.

Ciel shrugged, turning back in his seat to stare at his butler. "Call it mere curiosity."

* * *

"What _was_ that, back there?" Anne demanded of her nephew once the four of them sat down for lunch. They had found a small bistro, with an outdoor patio. The weather was still fair, and Anne felt it be best that they take advantage of the nice weather while time permitted.

"Morbid curiosity." Ciel spoke plainly, sipping a cup of tea as if the demanding inquiry were never asked.

Anne was not eased by that response. "Ciel…sweetheart. I know what your family has left behind for you to take up…but don't you think you're going in a little too fast? You're still a child, only _twelve_. You should be enjoying your adolescence while you still can…"

His one visible eye fixed a sudden glare on the center of her face. "And what would _you_ know? My childhood died on my tenth birthday, and I'm willing to leave it buried there in the past. What matters now, is that I find whoever wronged me, before they strike again elsewhere."

"Ciel…"

He shook his head, taking another sip of tea. "It matters not, think nothing more of it." He paused, looking down into his cup, before looking up to his aunt again. "I'm still curious as to what your friend was speaking of…"

"He was indeed speaking of the underground, young master." Sebastian grinned at the brat, fingers drumming silently around the side of his own cup. "But where, I couldn't begin to tell you. There are so many labyrinths that lead to more mazes in just London alone…"

Anne looked to him skeptically. "…Why would you want to know…?"

"Easy," Sebastian chuckled lazily. "I was hired to be his gun. When he signals the trigger, it is _my_ job to do the dirty work, as per the contract's agreed negotiations."

She frowned at him. "From what you've mentioned, I'd say you could easily find out everything on your own without anyone else's help." _A challenge_.

"Enough, Aunt Anne." Ciel frowned as he took another sip of tea. "Just as Tanaka agreed to stay on as my concierge of sorts, Sebastian has been added to the staff as my underground shadow. Why not make it _easier on all of us_, and pass on any information that you can. You're a top surgeon at the Wellington hospital; surely _something_ has to have been leaked. And if you cannot disclose anything to us, then you _can_ point us as to who can. You're nightlife habits had to have landed you several contacts and acquaintances."

Angelina stared at her nephew, perplexed at how grown up he sounded. How much he'd changed…darkened…fallen…  
She shook her head, sighing. "Alright, _alright_. Yes, the underground is crawling with talk right now- but even _that_ won't amount to much. _But_, there is one place you can try," her eyes shifted, staring directly at Michaelis. "There is pub that doubles as a nightclub, run by a man who doesn't really go by any name. Word has it, that he hears and sees just about everything that goes on underground. Your best chance at getting a meeting with him is this Friday evening. The club is only open Friday and Saturday nights. The pub is open every day, but you will never see him then. It's tricky getting in, and it's damn near impossible meeting with him."  
She took a long drink of wine she'd ordered with her lunch. "The place has great beverages. The bouncer is a cutie if you're into rugged men. There are two hostesses, but one of them I rarely see. I've never seen the owner in person myself- very few ever have. But of all the rumours I've heard, the best time to see him is Fridays- late into the night."

Sebastian was intrigued, though he barely showed signs of interest. That was the easiest bit about this butler position he was forced to take on; not showing emotion or letting on as to what he was thinking. "Pray tell, what is this establishment called?"

Madam Red downed the last of her wine before she made to respond. "'_The Parlour'_."

* * *

_**Author's Endnote:**_

_If you think we're going right to the nightclub, you're mistaken~  
(Also- yes, Sebastian says "Madame" rather than "Madam". I'm sure y'all can figure out why...)  
_

_~ AoZ_


	4. Chapter IV: (Dull Repetition)

_I'd say this is set around the same time as last chapter…_

_**Disclaimer:**_

_I own nothing but my OC(s), and the idea for this plot. Everything related to Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji belongs to Yana Toboso. _

* * *

**The Demons Inside**

**IV. **

_**Dull Repetition**_

* * *

_Click._  
_Click._  
_Click._

She frowned at the papers splayed out along the office table before her. They weren't grasping it. No matter what she tried, the results just _weren't_ improving. She clicked the red pen in her hand, tossing it to the side. Spinning the chair she was seated in, she looked to the sunny world outside. London was like Paris in that sense- how often it was cloudy, rainy, or even sunny. But for once, the sun shone brightly. She hummed lethargically.

"Given up for the time bein'?"

She laughed hollowly. "No. I just needed a break."

"Is tha' so?" Footsteps fell lightly over the old wood floor. "How much more do you have to do tonight, love?"

_Too much, but I've nothing else to do with my time._ "Just the rest of what's on the desk. Later I need to check and see if Jim finally decided to do his assignment."

"Oho. How is the little brat?"

She looked up, seeing long black nails and silver-gray hair cascading down part of the chair, and over her shoulder. "He's a smart boy, and he'll have many opportunities for his future. He just lacks focus."

"And the arachnid can't rein him in?" Puzzlement.

"Jim is _thirteen_," she laughed, pushing herself up and out of the chair. She stretched, popping the cartilage along her spine. "He is only twenty-nine, single, and rarely ever deals with children. You do the math."

"Is tha' righ'? I forgot he was still a sprout."

She snorted. "Which one?"

"The former is still a seed." A wide grin.

A sudden burst of laughter, she held her side to stabilize herself. She hadn't laughed at all that day. It was…nice.

The faint ringing of a phone sounded from downstairs. Rapid pattering of feet could be heard moments later. A head of cherry-red hair popped into the doorframe, bent over and breathing heavily. "M-Miss Abigail! A M-Mr. F. is on the line for you!" the young woman gasped out.

'Abigail' cocked her head, before shaking it as she made to exit. "Thank you, Mey-Rin. And _please_ be more careful. Until your new glasses are ready for pickup, you need to be more careful around here." She smiled, and departed down the hall, where another office was kept.

"Y-yes," Mey-Rin blushed, bowing her head in slight humiliation and shame. "I'm so sorry…"

The other in the room chuckled, coming up and patting the young woman on the head. "Now now, there's no need to be glum! We tell you this, because we care."

Mey-Rin righted herself abruptly, another blush painting her cheeks. "Y-yessir, Mr. Undertaker!"

"That's a good girl."

* * *

"_I can't get him to sit for ten minutes without him throwing a fit…!_"

Her eyes rolled, and she had to fight off a tempting chuckle at his expense. "Well, what do you expect? He's thirteen, Claude. Kids generally abhor school from age eleven, until about age seventeen."

She could hear him grumble; his feeble attempt not to mouth off at her. "…_Just, tell me what I need to do to get him to focus. That damned homework assessment you gave him is almost complete._"

She laughed. "You have two options. First, you could warn him that I have all authority to fail him. If that happens, he'll fall one year behind. The second option is a bit more extreme…"

"_Go on_."

She smirked into the phone. "Threaten to stop his dance lessons altogether until he gets his act together."

"…" Sudden laughter was her response. "_I have no idea_," the other tried to breathe, "_whether I should say I love you, or I'm downright terrified of you_."

"A little of both will suffice."

His breathing, though ragged, was finally calming down as he stopped his laughing fit. "_That's brilliant, though. I'm starting to think you know my ward better than I do._"

"No," she disagreed. "I just retain information better than you."

"…_I can't decide if that was a quip at my expense, or you were being genuine for a change…_"

"Genuine this time around."

Silence fell between them, when the man on the other end spoke up to end the stillness. "_…Are you alright, Abi?_"

She laughed tiredly. "Yeah. Just suffering a bit of melancholy. The sun is shining today."

"_Lucky you. For some reason, this part of England refuses to do anything else but rain_."

She snickered at his expense that time. "…By the way, how are they all?"

She could almost hear his tired smile. "_Busy. Camile's recently thrown another tantrum. Juliette is in Paris with her right now. They and your mother are planning a two week vacation sometime in October. Shea is plowing through university, and it appears your father has finally begun to seriously consider her as the next in line. As for Saul…well…no matter _where_ in Europe, his face is everywhere._"

_So, he's finally focusing on her? Good._ "Of course he would. Saul was destined to take after my mère, ma mamm. He was always a beautiful child, a beautiful boy. He's grown into a gorgeous young man, ma breur."

A soft chuckle. "_You know I can't understand Breton. French, oui._ _Breton, non_."

"I am sorry, Claude," she laughed softly. "I meant no disrespect. I forgot you did not know"

"_None taken_."

She looked to the window behind her, then to the doorway. Undertaker was watching her with amusement.

"Claude, I have some work to get done. Tell Jim that the paper is still due at the time I said it was. And tell Shea…" she thought for a moment. "Tell her not to let her opportunity slip by. That I want her to be happy, not just successful."

"_Will do. I'll talk to you soon_. _Stay out of trouble._"

The line cut off as they both hung up. She eyed the man before her suspiciously. "What's with that grin _now_?"

He chuckled. "It's always so _interesting_ to see your interactions with that Spider."

"Don't go there."

He tapped his long nails together, lifting his head to look down at her through his thick veil of hair. "I find it most intriguing, how even though your father pushed for a union, that you and Mr. Eight-legs are still as close as you are."

"He's been with our family for a long time," she reasoned tiredly. "You remember that. For a time after university, I took his company. But we established we have a deep friendship, nothing more to it. He's been…" she chuckled softly. "A very dear friend, and very understanding. I couldn't ask for more."

Undertaker approached her, combing a hand through her mid-length ginger hair. "True. This business is unlucky. Real friends are hard to come by."

She sighed tiredly. "…Cyrus. Faustus said _he_ is finally changing his focus to Shea. But I'm having doubts…"

"You are still under surveillance."

She hissed under her breath. "I knew that…"

"Meaning," he reasoned slowly. "You are forever going to be under his watch. How you managed to keep your endeavors while at university under the rug, is still beyond me."

"I didn't try and hide it."

"O_ho_?"

She brushed away his hand. "It was actually a technicality on his part… his papers lead nowhere."

"As in…"

"_Precisely_." Her and her cheeky grin. "It's as if he doesn't exist. They could see him clear as day, but no one had a clue as to who he was. A dead-end road, if you will- empty space might be a better way to term it."

"My, my," the man laughed, loud and boisterous. "You know how to play the game _well_."

* * *

By close to nightfall, the weather had turned sour. It was only seven in the evening, but the weather was not to any pedestrian's liking. Drizzling enough to soak the entire ground in puddles. Customers, the few caught out in the weather's turn, had taken shelter in the first floor- _the pub_.  
Behind the bar counter, the tapping of keys along a slim laptop was the only other outright sound- the rest quiet murmurs and clanking of glasses and bottles over hardwood tops. Working around her, Mey-Rin tried her best to be graceful and swift as she served out the beer and whiskey that seemed rather popular that evening. Especially that Bushmills Irish Honey- the downpour outside seemed to strike a craving for that batch of whiskey.

Mey-Rin was taking care of the quiet customers, doing a splendid job in the relaxed environment.  
A long-haired black cat hopped up to the counter, swaying with feline grace, waltzing up to the ginger-haired woman. Laughing, Abigail brought a shallow glass to her lips- Irish Honey, of course, looking away from the cat when a crack of thunder sounded outside. The feline hissed at the noise, dashing off with another hiss when the pub's door swung open. She herself frowned when in came a sashaying man garbed in _entirely_ too much white, bringing in puddles behind every step of his feet. With him, a man dressed in contrasting black, holding an umbrella above the man in white's head. She grimaced behind her glass, taking in a swig of whiskey, and letting it burn the back of her mouth and throat. _Aleister Chamber_.

Mey-Rin nearly dropped a tray of glasses at the abrupt entrance, fumbling to catch the glassware met an untimely end. She looked to the woman behind the counter. Abigail beckoned her head to the back. She'd deal with Chamber.

"Well well!" Aleister waltzed up to the bar, landing with exaggerated lightness onto the stool. "If it isn't my beloved Oriole."

Abigail cringed behind her glass, shutting the top of her laptop as she focused her attention to the invasive blond. "I'd think you'd be at home rather than in this drizzle, Mr. Chambers."

He brushed back his damp, wavy hair, shrugging off her remark. "Come now! I have documents to give to the owners of this fine establishment! I'm throwing a large party at my estate, to end the summer season. _The Parlour_ has always been hospitable, with some of the finest hard drinks this part of England."

"So," she eyed him with interest. "You want us to cater?"

"Ah, but I cannot discuss this with anyone _but_ the establishment managers." He grinned at her, reaching out to twiddle one of her ginger locks. "Mr. Undertaker _or_ Miss Coulter, whoever either of them are. Understand, _mon cherie_?"

She batted his hand away. "Is that why your servant is hugging that envelope protectively to his person?"

Aleister laughed, high pitched and nose raised. "My Oriole, you see _everything_, no!"

Her lips read amusement with its smirk; her eyes however, shared no such genial affections. "_Oui_, monsieur. But let us not forget you are wasting your _own_ time here. I'm afraid both proprietors of the pub are not available at this time to discuss business. If you leave the envelope here, I assure you I will take it to them in person the moment either one of them is in."

Chamber mulled over the notion, tapping gloved fingers over his thin mouth. "Well, my Oriole, I will just have to trust your judgment."  
He snapped his fingers, and his guard, albeit reluctantly, handed over the small brown parcel. Aleister handed the envelope over to Abigail, a grin spreading wider. "Remember, my sweet, that I'm putting my trust in you to deliver."

Her responding grin was empty. "Rest assured, it will be done."

* * *

Gleeful laughter. "So _now_ these mundane and boring days finally 'ave a break from their repetition…!"

She found his amusement in the situation ill-placed. "Hardly funny, _Undertaker_. I'd be focusing more on _how_ he knows that the Coalter line is branched to this pub."

"But that's just _it_!" he giggled breathily. "That's what makes this _interesting_. We've been waitin' for some'ne to come and make a move. Now, we just have to watch the next play carefully, love."

She grimaced. White teeth gnawed along the seams of her lightly reddened lips. He was right. But the fact remained, what game was currently being set? There were three games in play around her, but two were hard to distinguish from each other. Reaching over, she took the invitations from the man sitting across from her with a low growl. The cat from earlier purring with its own contempt, sprawled lazily near the middle of the large old desk. "Which piece needs to be played?"

Undertaker's knowing grin spread. "Give it a week at most. If they call, you'll take on the role you were born under. Should they not, we'll work around it accordingly."

"…" Her eyes were weary. "This is most likely a rhetorical question, but… How likely _is_ it that we'll receive the call?"

Undertaker's grin slackened, falling to a puzzling line. "You know as well as I, love."

Abigail groaned, pressing the heels of both her palms to her eyes. "Why can't it ever be _simple_…!?"

He hummed sympathetically. "Because that isn't how the world works, Abi."

She sighed. "Well, at least this will give way to investigating Aleister further. His record is suspicious, albeit immaculately clean. He's _far_ from this decent of a human. He has more skeletons than this lurking in his closet."

Undertaker's grin returned tenfold. "And _that_ is how you will find your answers, sweetheart."

Her hand reached out to the cat, its nose twitching, moving in over its own belly to rub along her knuckles. She couldn't help a grin of her own from spreading. _Finally… Someone gets it- besides this damned cat_.

"Well, best not to worry right now. Chamber's invitation is in two-weeks' time. For now, we've a slight problem in getting our next shipments in before Friday."

_That's three days from now…_ Her fingers halted their playing with the cat's ears. "Oh _joy_."

* * *

_**Author's Endnote:**_

_Will we be going to the nightclub next? Or maybe Claude? Or maybe something else entirely~? Who knooows~ _

_An Oriole is (well there are several types) a bird found in the US. Many of them are very black and yellow in coloring. _

_And if anyone sees language errors, please let me know! (I'm going to be using French, Italian, Breton, and German.) I don't mean to offend anyone…! And this isn't my best chapter- not at all. But I need it to set up what's going to happen. Yaaay. Not. x.x  
_

_~ AoZ_


	5. Chapter V: (London Night Life)

_**Disclaimer:**_

_I own nothing but my OC(s), and the idea for this plot. Everything related to Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji belongs to Yana Toboso. _

* * *

**The Demons Inside**

**V. **

_**London Night Life**_

* * *

Ungloved fingers raked through silken black hair. In the soft light of his shared room with Tanaka, Sebastian looked over his figure in the large mirror of their long vanity. He grinned; eyeing the pouting brat perched on his own bed, staring cold daggers into his backside.

"Yes," he simpered, "young master?"

Ciel huffed, darting his eye away from his butler. "I still don't see how it's fair _you_ get to go."

Sebastian righted his posture, standing poised and tall. He pulled at the new pinstripe button up top, fixing any potential wrinkles. It sat tucked into the waistband of his new slacks- another piece of brand new clothing of fine satin-like quality. Angelina had done well, he noted with one last quick check of his clothes. He reached for a small box, digging into its hidden contents.

"Because, young master," he placed two black-coated steel studs into his right ear, mimicking the same but with an added hoop to his left. "It is a _nightclub_. Adultery and other such vulgarities are not suited for your young mind."

"Why yo- !"

Sebastian fixed a steady stone look to his contractor. "_Not to mention_- I'll be able to work more efficiently without having to keep an eye on you. I'm not unfamiliar with this scene." He pushed a spike steal loop through his left brow, wincing. _It's been a while since I've last used that_… "I used to be a frequent customer of the nightlife. It is easier on me, not to mention safer for you, if you remain here."  
Lastly, Sebastian pulled out a set of dog tags, and a matching chain to wrap around his wrist. He slipped the tags over his head, letting the cold metal tap against the exposed skin of his upper chest. With a soft click, the chain was secured to his wrist. He tugged at the shirt's collar, his recently painted black nails and the pricey looking rings decorating his fingers catching the dim light. He smirked, his eyes flickering over Ciel's reluctantly curious face from the mirror. "It would be wise for you to head to bed soon, young master. There is no guarantee how long I'll be out. But once I've found anything, should tonight prove to be so lucky, I'll return with a report."

The brat scowled at him as he made to leave, and all he could do was chuckle.

* * *

He'd taken one of the Phantomhive's cars (_Why he insisted on buying them, be damned if I knew- the kid's only twelve!_), parking blocks away. But from the booming bass and heavy sound of wild rock music, he'd say he was in the right district. And from the long line of young adults, some around thirty- others it was questionable their legal age, crowding nearly an entire block- he was positive. He approached the long line, mostly consisting of women, but enough men to balance out the dynamics so the joint wouldn't be infested by the female populace.

The queue to enter was _long_. Ridiculously so. And he sure as hell wasn't about to wait around. No, instead he took the bastard's way- and walked right passed them. Barring the doorway, stood a rugged-muscle, scruffy stubble, younger man with dirty-blond hair. Between his lips sat a half-smoked cigarette. Sebastian sneered, placing a hand to his waist as he finally came to a stop in front of the bouncer. The dirty-blond eyed him with a hard gaze, doing a onceover, then doing a second take. He may have been entirely straight for all Sebastian cared, but he damn well knew how to fit into the nightlife- and he knew he looked near fuckable right then and there.

He simpered. "_Problem_?"

The other man shook his head, snapping himself from his stupor. His light turquoise eyes could rival one of Sebastian's rings. "N-no," he grunted. "S'rry 'bout that, mate. Y'just…remind o' s'mone I know."

"_Oh?_"

The man chuckled roughly, uncrossing his arms to flick the accumulated ash of his smoke. "Not like ya look an'thing like 'em. Just…that presence, y'know?"

_Hmmm…_ "Well," Sebastian leaned over the slightest, his eyes zeroing in on the dilated pupils staring back. "Maybe later, I can get you to tell me a…_little more_…?"

The man whooped with a laugh. "Y'er a'right, mate. Head on in. Lord knows we need a few more like you in there to shake up the same ol', same ol'."

_Precisely what I wanted to hear_.

He grinned into the shadows, taking pleasure from the squawking outside about the cutter being allowed inside.

* * *

Bodies molding, bodies moving. The entire premise inside was hot, smelt of smoke, sweat, and heady musk- with a strangely delightful overlay of something akin to potpourri. Lights flashed, reverberating over every young body- both dancing and crowding in clusters. A stage had been set up near the back, where a local band or something was doing a cover for a more well-known heavy rock band from the States. Sebastian had to admit, they weren't too shabby.  
But he did not waste time. He meandered, with his long leisured strides, to the bar. He'd done a quick glance over the crowd, and to the sides. He found no lead there. So his best bet? _Schmooze the bartender_.  
Luckily for him, a pretty little thing, and timid, was working the counter,

He chuckled, slipping between a few people to get a chance to speak with her.

She was busy, working as quickly as she could to take and fulfill the orders demanded of her. It was the tapping of his fingers over the old wood bar that her eyes shot up. And when she saw his face, the already flushing of her cheeks deepened. _So, you like what you see?_  
He grinned, beckoning her over. "Just a Fool's Gold, sweetheart."

She nearly fumbled, sending everything around her cascading to the ground. Oh, but she was quick to catch herself. She made quick work of the drink, eloquently, to his surprise, pouring the whiskey and cognac with ease. The cinnamon liqueur was added in near perfect amounts.  
Her hands were shaking as she passed the glass to him, watching him as he took the first taste. He carefully, lightly, watcher her from the corner of his own eye as he let the drink burn and scorch its way down his throat. _Not bad_. He looked around casually. The crowd had migrated closer to the stage. _Perfect_.

He leaned over the bar, playing with his glass with nimble fingers. "Impressive work, sweetheart. Your age beguiles an impressive artist."

She swayed, her face flushing nearly as dark as her cherry hair. "T-th-th-thank y-y-you…"

His smile was a mix between playful and charming. "Such a brilliant bartender. But I wonder, maybe you could help me with a small problem?"

Her eyes widened from behind her thin-framed glasses. "I…um…I suppose…?"

_Sorry sweetheart. But I'm afraid what you're after, isn't in the cards tonight_. He chuckled quietly. "I don't suppose you can give me an appointment with..._the Undertaker_?"

She gasped. "I-I'm sorry, sir. But anyone 'round here knows he doesn't take appointments, save but for a few exceptions…"

_Problematic_. "Oh? But what if I said it was important?" He leaned farther over the bar, his tone dropping low. "Say, dealing with the _underground_?"

She did drop the glass she was wiping, but it only clattered loudly over the counter. Her breathing quickened, Sebastian noted curiously, as did her heart rate. But when she suddenly reached her hand up to her right ear, he was mildly surprised. _An earpiece?_

"Yessir. Y-yes, I understand. B-but…are you certain, sir?" She frowned, her eyes mapping over Sebastian's face. "Yes, alright." She turned her full attention to him, and this time, much less timid than before. "He accepts your audience. Take the hallway to your right, and then take the first door on your left. It will lead you to a balcony above. He's waiting there."

_Interesting personality change, sweet one._ He bowed his head lightly in gratitude. "I thank you."

* * *

He did not know that the pub was quite that extensive, as his feet met soft carpet of the warming overhang. A round table, with a curving sofa wrapping around it, were at the center. Pictures hung on the circular wood walls, and about three large house plants sat sparsely.

"The carpet is to mask the sound that this exists."

He chuckled, eyes zeroing in on the head of silver-gray. "Wouldn't the tinted, one-way windows be enough?"

The other chuckled, fingers tapping over the back of the sofa. His eyes remained focused, however, on the events going on down below. "Can' be too careful. Though why we call it a balcony, I haven't the faintest. This is more a loft than an'thin' else."

"We humans are silly creatures in that retrospect."

The other chuckled, head turning to eye the man in black. "Come, sit. You piqued my interest with this talk o' the underground."

Sebastian smirked, although was peculiarly interested at the veiled eyes concealed from him. He took his seat at the sofa's other edge. "Indeed. Rumor has it you're a pot of gold when it comes to information."

Undertaker chuckled. "_Aye_."

Sebastian's eyes wandered to the glass, seeing the crowd below dance and pulse to the rhythm of, though faintly heard from where he sat, hard and heavy metal. "What do you know of this new 'Jack the Ripper'?"

He caught from the corner of his eye, the maddening grin from the other. "_Plenty_."

* * *

_**Author's Endnote:**_

_So I decided to jump right into this. Wheee. So fun! Next chapter will be fun too. Possibly longer? It's looking that way.  
_

_~ AoZ_


End file.
